Jade
BONDAGE CUFFS.
Wooden paddle.
Nipple Clamps.
This is ridiculous.
I stare down at my suitcase packed full of adult toys I have no business owning, let alone putting in a bag to take on a work trip.
My bucket list book lies next to the suitcase full of all the exciting things a teenager can dream up when the world is so big and unexplored, when every new experience offers a hundred more.
I pick it up and sit on my bed, finally getting it to myself. At one time, I knew the entries by heart. Knew the drawings and their meanings.
They were thrilling.
They were exciting.
They were mine.
Now, they’ve turned into a group event I don’t want to be a part of. One that Hart tossed me into because he’s, he’s—Hart-fucking-Wilde.
I let out a long sigh and scrub my hands over my face.
He’s the one who got me fired up for this. For pointing out, I couldn’t check off every damn thing on the bucket list without him. I never wanted to do it without him. He forced me into it, but my anger drove me into The Crimson Hollow.
This isn’t me. These toys aren’t me. Well, they aren’t me unless I’m sharing them with someone I trust and love. Not someone like Bronx.
A knock raps on my front door.
“Good morning,” Natalie calls out.
“In here.” I zip up the bag full of toys and slide it on the floor beside my bed before my sister pops around the corner of the bedroom.
She scans the room, pausing at my bags, before leaning against the doorframe, hands tucked into the pockets of her cargo. An oversized shirt hangs loosely over her tank top, its sleeves falling past her elbow.
“I’m surprised to see you packed.”
“I lost the bet.”
She raises an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’re not one to not put up a fight.”
“Is that why they sent you?”
She steps into the room and flops down on the bed next to my suitcase. “You bet. The rest of them are waiting outside for a gunshot.”
I laugh, zipping my last bag closed. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“I’m not disappointed.” She grabs one of my bags and swings it over her shoulder with ease, then winks. “You’re coming. This will be fun.”
I stare at her, narrowing my eyes. “You just want me there because you got dragged out of your element.”
“It’s true.” She shrugs, unbothered, and reaches for another bag. “If I’m forced to go, so are you.”
I eye her for a second. “What about Juniper?”
Her smile falters. “He’s already tried to sneak into my bag. Twice.”
I’m not surprised. The thought of her skunk, with his scruffy fur and big, soulful eyes, attempting such a thing sounds accurate.
“Don’t laugh. He’s waiting outside. I’m breaking his little heart. I’ve never left him for a week.”
She pauses, glancing out the window with a look of utter betrayal in the yard.
“You’re gonna have to make this up to him.” I grab the rest of the bags and follow her outside.
“You’re coming.” Josie throws her arms around me, and we stumble back. “This means two birthday celebrations.”
I shake my head. “No. The other night was enough. Let’s just focus on the bucket list.” The words sound wrong, but that’s why I agreed to come.
“At least let us have cake,” Josie pleads.
“Pie.”
She smiles. “Pie it is.”
“And no singing.”
‘Cross my heart.” Josie makes the action, but I highly doubt she’ll follow through.
We head to the meeting spot in front of the lodge.
Josie high-tails it inside the RV, threatening anyone who tries to wake her before we arrive.
I load my bags and pull out my clipboard to double-check everything when the Wildes roll up.
I mentally begin preparing myself for a week with these guys when Hart steps out of the behemoth of a converted bus.
This is not the clusterfuck I signed up for.
I dust off my cut-off jean shorts and march straight toward him, pulse racing.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Nice to see you, too.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” My voice shakes with barely controlled anger.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m here to make sure this event doesn’t turn into a disaster.”
My jaw tightens, and my hands curl at my sides. “Oh, really?”
He leans in a little, not enough to touch, but just enough to make me want to take a step back.
“You don’t trust me, huh?” His voice is sharp, biting. “Funny, because I don’t trust you either. Figured I’d better come and make sure everything doesn’t fall apart while you’re too distracted finishing your bucket list with your new cowboy.”
“Wait a minute. Are you here because of the bucket list or who I plan to finish it with?”
“I’m here to make sure your family doesn’t embarrass ours in front of half the circuit. To keep you from turning our booth into a Pinterest project gone wrong, remember?”
I fold my arms over my front, clutching my clipboard, and rock on the back of my boots. “Why do you care so much about the book?”
“I don’t.”
He flicks my clipboard. “Why don’t you toss that away and live in the moment?”
I wedge it under my arm. “You touch my clipboard again and I swear I’ll staple you to the wall.”
“Kinky.”
“You would know all about kinks.”
His half smirk remains. “We both know that’s not the real truth.” His eyes lands behind me. “Is that my truck paint?”
I follow his gaze to the matching rockers. “Can’t confirm or deny.” My tone confirms.
He stalks off, grumbling.
He hasn’t even done anything yet, and I already want to throw something. I check the few things within my reach, but by the time I look at him again, he’s talking to his brothers.
Why is he leaning against the bus like that? Like he’s posing for a denim ad, arms crossed. Sunglasses on. That smug tilt of his head.
Yeah, I’m here.
Yeah, I cracked your bucket list.
Yeah, I’m camping with you.
Asshole.
He catches me staring and tosses up a salute like we were some kind of team.
Hard no.
I spin on my boot heel and march into the lodge and straight to my office.
Screw him.
If he wants to play the “I’m just tagging along” game, then fine, let’s make it miserable.
I flip on the light with purpose. Drawers fly open. Old papers scatter—receipts, ink-smudged notepads, and a postcard from Canada.
Then—bingo.
I yank out the old paper map, the one with coffee stains and creases from my high school glove box days.
Old Highway 21.
Winding past sleepy towns.
Thick pine woods.
Dodging the interstate like it’s the plague.
The scenic route.
The long haul.
The route he flat-out refused to take at the town hall.
Perfect.
I spread the map across my desk and start tracing the path with a pencil.
Let’s go to the rodeo, Hart.
But we’re doing it my way.